


White Collar Sentence Fics

by buzzedbee20



Category: White Collar
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gen, Pre-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-20 00:04:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2407835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buzzedbee20/pseuds/buzzedbee20
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Different moments in life. Spans the seasons, kinda spoilery</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Collar Sentence Fics

**Author's Note:**

> Title: White Collar Sentence Fics  
> Author: Buzzedbee20  
> Pairing: Elizabeth/Peter, Neal/Kate  
> Warnings: None  
> Rating: G  
> Disclaimer: White Collar: not mine, but I am theirs  
> Summary: Moments in life and time for the White Collar crew. Some slightly AU-ish, maybe  
> A/N: My first written works for the fandom! I thought it only fitting to post it first.

**My Girl**

It’s not that Peter didn't like the opulent things that came with having money, or  
flouting the law to get it, as far as Neal was concerned. It’s just that, no matter what he did, he knew that he would have exactly what he needed. He had Elizabeth; he had a nice house, a good job and a good dog. He didn't really need much more than that. Caffrey might think that he was boring, but when all the pieces were put into place, Peter Burke’s life was a work of art that couldn't be forged or stolen by anyone. 

 

**Long Distance Call**

“This has to be the last time…” even as he heard himself say the words his heart ached. Finally hearing Peter’s voice after six weeks was as painful as it was exciting for Neal. He let himself admit, there in the dark morning of the beach that he’d been yearning to hear that voice and know that Peter had found him. It reminded him of the second time he had been found, Peter walking in alone, beholding Neal in his misery. Talking to him more as a friend than an FBI agent. That was the moment he knew the deal he wanted to strike with Peter would be well received. The Dutchman; that was just icing on the cake. Now, even as he flung the cell phone into the ocean, he knew he would be seeing Peter’s face again, and soon. He decided not to imagine what it would cost them this time. 

 

**Natural Anthem**

He was painting. That in itself wasn't too much of an anomaly, but he didn't know what he was painting. Neal usually had some idea of what was going on the canvas before he chose his medium, but tonight, he just set out his easel and grabbed his favorite oil based paints and got to work. It was a mess so far, mixing light reds and yellows with some of his darkest purples and blues, slashing marks on one side and gentle curves on the other. He wasn't really thinking straight, and he knew it, but he wasn't really feeling straight either. Since the Fowler mess he had remained on house arrest, and tonight, something had finally snapped in him. He had to paint this...feeling. He didn't know what it was but the restless energy had to go somewhere. He didn't know how many hours he spent marking the canvas, but when he finally walked away and crashed on his couch, paint covering most of his upper body including his face and some in his hair, he fell asleep face down, the portrait of Kate looking on, trying not to smile at a trick he’d shown her back when they first met. 

 

**Paris 2004**

It was almost impossible for Neal to imagine he was in Paris. Well he could imagine it, but he couldn't believe Kate was in his bed. She told him she wouldn't stay long, but that she had missed him too much to stay away. He was excited, because he knew the perfect three-person job he could pull with her, as long as he could convince Moz to do it. But that didn't matter, because right now the person he loved most in the world was calling his name, and he could forgo his view of the Eiffel Tower for a much more enticing masterpiece. 

 

 **Sea Legs**

He felt lighter in the water. Like he was actually free. Being in the pool reminded him of the Riviera, where he spent a memorable three weeks evading security and enjoying the Olympic pool on a stolen Caravaggio’s dime. The YMCA pool wasn't quite the same, but even the weight of the anklet couldn't restrict him from the feeling of the water against his skin, the pull of his muscles against the water, and the calm in his mind as he swam lap after lap, not thinking, only feeling the sensation of the water. 

 

**Swing Tree**

Sometimes he thinks about Cape Verde. He wakes in the night and imagines he can smell the beach, the sand under his toes, beneath his fingernails, and in his hair. The beautiful ocean, swimming in its depths. The shells he found without even looking. The first night there, drinking so much rum with Mozzie he doesn't remember how they got back to the villa. He smiles at these memories, the few that aren't tainted with Collins, Dobbs, being shot, running-again. These are the memories he paints when sleep has left him. He counts back the time and imagines the daylight shining through the palm trees as he creates. 

 

 **Shut Up**  
He was leaving. He knew he wanted to do it, but he had never really felt the initiative until Kate’s words hit him like a ton of bricks. She told him he was useless and she never knew what she saw in him. That first night he got so drunk that by the time he got home he barely made it into the room before passing out right there on the floor. He woke up in the morning sore and sick feeling, but slowly got up and packed his carry-on bag. He didn't know where he would go, but he definitely was going. The airport wasn't far, and he had enough money to get to wherever Kate could possibly be.


End file.
